Disclaimer: I do not own Les Mis (book belongs to Victor Hugo, play belongs to Boubil/Shounberg). I also do not own the series Animorphs , (belongs to K.A Applegate/Scholastic.) from which I take some influences for this story. Cassie and the other OC's are mine, though.
"I have to, like, walk home. I'll ruin my shoes!"
"I have to ride the smelly bus with my stupid brother. I'm sure he'll embarrass me!"
"Oh! Poor you!
"Aw…poor you!"
"EEEE!"
"EEEE!"
Cassie and Leigh squealed, hugged, and pulled apart.
"So, five o'clock, then. Let's see if we can talk on the phone for FOUR HOURS STRAIGHT!" Leigh was almost shivering in anticipation.
"Totally! There's, like, so much I have to say!"
"Like, me too! EEEE!"
"EEEE!"
"Well, like, goodbye! See you!"
"Bye!"
Cassie then looked at the sidewalk ahead of her, and had an abrupt mood swing. Ugh. Not only was the sidewalk going to ruin her shoes, she didn't know the way home. Let's see, was it three rights and a left, or two rights, a left, and then another right? Despite this, she moved onward, cursing the drizzle and her parents for making her walk home.
Her parents were rather outdoorsy people, and they couldn't understand why Cassie preferred shopping and boys to hikes and swimming.
"Eeew!" she cried out as she lifted her high-heeled shoe and a piece of ABC gum came with it, officially breaking in the new set of heels.
Double ugh.
In her hopping, squealing, and pointing, she didn't notice that she became even more lost.
"Omigod, where am I?" Cassie looked around. This was definitely not somewhere for a squeaky cheerleader to be. This was the wrong side of the tracks. The streets were covered in garbage, and the crumble-down buildings were covered in graffiti; man, was she lost.
Suddenly, movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. She whipped around, hoping not to meet some sleazy criminal intent on grabbing her purse…or worse.
However, her fears were unfounded, as it turned out to be only two girls, and two girls of small stature at that. After about thirty seconds, Cassie realized with a start that she knew the girls; they were Florence and Julie of the Ick-ular Eight. She wondered what in God's name were they doing here. Even though she didn't like them, she was much too lost to care—she had to ask for directions!
On second thought, Cassie wanted to know terribly badly what they were doing in these parts, and she had the feeling she would never get to see why if they saw her. She crept closer, hiding behind a building.
She could see Florence and Julie going up to a high, chain-link fence. They appeared to be arguing animatedly about something. After a little while, Julie sighed in defeat, and offered her arm to Florence. Florence grinned, then disappeared!
Cassie blinked, then gaped. No, she didn't disappear, she convinced herself. She probably just moved into the shadows. She also decided this would make good gossip and continued to watch as the same shadows that seemed to envelope Florence started to consume Julie, who was shivering madly as she disappeared. About two seconds later, they appeared on the other side of the fence. Cassie could hear them talking:
"H-how c-c-can you l-l-ive with that?" Julie's teeth were chattering.
"I am Florie. I have long since learned to be a creature of shadows. Now let's go, before we're late and Angie kills us!"
"Have you been hanging around Jannie again?"
"Maybe I have. What's it to you?"
Julie was laughing.
"What?"
Wait a minute…there was a meeting somewhere? Omigod, this was beyond good gossip. Cassie decided this was too good to miss, and continued to follow them until they reached a large, gray, crumbling stone building, which they then disappeared inside. Cassie peered out of her hiding spot, and decided it was safe to come out in the open. She snuck along, tip-toeing towards the door.
She suddenly felt her Aeropostale shirt tighten around the collar. She gagged helplessly, while attempting to see her captor.
"Well, look what the Chanel cat dragged in," Cassie finally was allowed to turn around, though her captor still had her collar and recognized Gretchen.
Oh, dang it, she had forgotten about the others.
"What brings you on our territory, blondie cheerleader?" Gretchen's voice was a low and muddy drawl; Cassie knew a southern accent when she heard it.
"Hey! I'm not blonde!"
"Might as well be. Answer my question."
"Why do I have to, redneck!" Cassie attempted to copy Gretchen's twang, mocking her.
Admittedly, not the smartest thing to do, considering that Gretchen had control of her airflow.
Gretchen tightened her grip, and leaned closer to Cassie, spitting. "Blondie, you have no idea whatsoever who you are dealing with. Answer my question, now, before I squeeze you even more and you go to little squeaky cheerleader H-E-double toothpicks.
Cassie had no idea if Gretchen was serious, but she wasn't about to chance it. "OKAY!" she gagged, desperate. "I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING, JUST LET ME BREATHE!"
Cassie dropped to the pavement, where she wheezed in gasps of air. She realized Gretchen still had a threatening hand on her arm, just daring her to run away.
Oh, darn it.
"Okay…so I had to walk home, and I, like, got this, like, icky ABC gum, like, all over my shoes, and I ran because that is like, so gross, and then I found your friends and they, like, disappeared, and I, like, wanted to know why and so I, like, followed them and then you, like, cut off my, like, air supply. So, there! Please don't, like, kill me! That would be so totally bad!"
Gretchen gave a tired, frustrated sigh, as if they had dealt with things like this before. "Depends on who you ask. Oh, dear, you saw Florie? I guess I have to ask Angie for the memory wipes again." She then clamped her hand down on Cassie's arm and led her into the building. Cassie gaped.
"What do you mean, memory wipes? You're going to, like, mess with my head? Omigod, no way! What's, like, wrong with you?"
Gretchen said nothing.
Finally, Cassie and Gretchen entered their destination, a small concrete room. Cassie could recognize all of the Ick-ular Eight, each in various expressions of shock, or anger.
"I found Blondie outside. She saw Florie and Julie, and, as if that isn't enough, FOLLOWED THEM HERE!"
Angie looked extremely ticked off.
"You let HER SEE YOU?!" she yowled. Julie and Florence shrank into their seats. Angie then lost a lot of the pure infuriation and settled into frustrated resignation.
"Leslie, will you take our little—guest—to another room? We have to decide something. Oh, and use the blindfold and rope. We can't have her trying to escape."
Cassie was then seized by the wrist and brought to another room. Leslie then brought out a piece of cloth, of a horrid brown color, and a scratchy rope. "I'm sorry," she said, as she deprived Cassie of her sight and hand usage, "I don't want to do this to you, but I promise you, it's for the best, okay?"
Cassie was cursing the Ick-ular Eight to the best of her ability.
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"So," Janine opened as Leslie slid back into her seat. "What do we do with her?"
Florie cleared her throat. "I think the memory wipes are a valid suggestion. She'd forget about us, and we won't need to worry about it again."
Angie looked murderous, but she gave Florie a begrudging nod.
Corrie looked around, seeming a little nervous. "Actually, maybe…just maybe…she's one of us? She…"
Angie nearly blew the roof off, both metaphorically and literally. "THAT BIMBO? Corrie, have you lost your mind? I know it takes only one trait to tip us off, but tell me, has she even shown ONE strong trait in common with Combeferre?"
"Actually…there's something I haven't told you… I was picking on Michael again."
Angie snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."
"He proceeded to start beating me up, right? Cass comes along, and she was able to reason with him into letting me go. No one, not even one of the teachers, has ever been able to do that. That has got to say something, though how you interpret it is up to you." Corrie sat down, eyeing Angie uneasily.
"WHAT? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME EARLIER?" Angie burst into flames.
"If I had told you then, you would have exploded in the crowded lunchroom…with everyone watching. Here, at least, you don't blow our cover."
Leslie laughed. "Corrie, using good reasoning and logic? Are pigs flying outside?" Everyone else joined in, except Corrie, who scowled.
Julie shook her head. "She's too different. Sure, she did that, but that was one, small thing, and it may well have been an isolated instance."
Corrie, Leslie, and Betsy started to laugh. Betsy regained herself and spoke, "Julie, you of all people, suggesting that a seeming polar opposite could not be one of us, what with your own particularly bad case of character shock? Need I remind you of some of your antics before Joly that involved…ah, questionable sterility?"
Julie somehow managed to turn dull green and crimson at the same time.
"NO, no, you don't. I'm convinced! Don't tell me!" she said hurriedly.
Janine looked rather thoughtful. "Maybe…we could have her try on the last vest with the blindfold on and see what happens? If she's normal, it won't affect her anyway and she won't be given any new information. If she's one of us, we'll know for certain."
Betsy gaped. "Janine, you aren't often right, but when you are, you're absolutely brilliant.
Angie gave an involuntary growl. "There are still so many things that could go wrong…No way…" Gretchen nodded in agreement.
Leslie, in a moment uncharacteristic of her, growled back, "Oh, come off it. You just don't want to do this because you don't want to have to deal with a Barbie Girl on the team, sweetheart, especially since this is supposed to be your mentor."
Angie looked as if she meant to relieve the team of one Leslie in two seconds, and she started on fire. After a long, uncomfortable silence, she spoke, gratingly "See, character shock is never complete, even with you. Your character would have never lashed out like that. So, I will give you the vest to use, but she will always be a bimbo, even if she is one of us, and don't you forget it." She then thrust a vest into Florie's hands, and then turned away to sulk. Gretchen followed her.
The others turned and walked swiftly down the hall.
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Cassie stirred. She could hear the door open, and several sets of footsteps.
"Omigod, what are you doing? Tell me!" she cried out. She felt someone cut her bonds, and then the sensation of someone slipping something feather-light around her shoulders.
Suddenly, she felt a slight pain. That pain multiplied until it became almost unbearable. She longed to die to just escape it!
"AAAAAAH! OMIGOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING! MAKE IT STOP!"
Too much pain. Too much. A second later, Cassie blacked out.
Six of the group known by others as the Ick-ular Eight was standing around their newest member.
Julie gazed down sympathetically. "I guess this isn't a very good welcome party, is it?"